


Craving

by The28thAurora



Series: Bewitched, Bothered, Bewildered, and Beastly (4B) [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Scenting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Omegaverse, Angst, Angst and Pining, Eventually Becomes Consensual, F/M, Forbidden Longing, Friends to Lovers, Guilt, I am making this term a thing darn it!, Kylo is 26-ish, Masturbation, Mostly in the Form of Spells, Nature vs. Nuture, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, Pining, Plenty of Harry Potter References, Rey is 18, Rey is Strong Independent Omega, Rey was raised by Alphas, Rutting, Scenting, Teacher Pining for a Student, Teacher-Student Relationship, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, Who Hasn't Drunk the Professor Ren Thirst Juice Yet, bickerers to lovers, rivals to friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29620008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The28thAurora/pseuds/The28thAurora
Summary: Professor Ren and wicked-smart student Rey Niima started off on the most tempestuous, competitive of terms. And for an Alpha and an Omega, that is saying something!But the more they got to know one another while the Transfiguration professor tutored Rey in her final year of school, the more that hatred dissolved into something affectionate.Now, their verbal sparring matches are great fun. And everything is fine...Until Rey forgets to drink her required-for-student's-safety, nightly potion that blocks production of her scent and delays her heats.And suddenly, everything is very much not.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Bewitched, Bothered, Bewildered, and Beastly (4B) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2176278
Comments: 11
Kudos: 37





	Craving

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the #ReyloMicroFic Valentine's Season 2021
> 
> Prompt: Craving
> 
> A WIP, or an in medias res preview of a concept.

“Alright, everyone, class dismissed! And don't forget about your essays on Gamp's Law, due Monday!” announced Professor Ren, baritone voice projecting perfectly across the classroom, heard by all over the scraping of chairs and shuffling feet.

“And it's _two_ scrolls of parchment on the subject, not one and three fourths, Dameron!” he tacked on.

“Understood, Professor...” Poe grumbled, indignantly on the way out, the best he could do, given he hadn't the desire, or death-wish, to bark down an Alpha.

Kylo Ren turned on his heel, satisfied, and with an idle flick of his wand, commanded the eraser to start wiping the chalkboard clean.

As such, he didn't notice the classroom hadn't emptied completely until he heard the soft throat-clearing behind him.

“By some small miracle, I managed to finish my essay early, Professor,” Rey said, lips forming a purely cordial smile, as she held out the twine-tied scrolls to him, a full arm's breadth from her body.

“Really?” he murmured, taking the assignment with some surprise, lips just shy of tugging into a smile of his own.

Rey adjusted the strap of her messenger bag on her shoulder, freeing her squashed scarlet-and-gold tie from its imprisonment in the process.

“Yes. Given that tonight's the first game of the Quidditch season and all that, I wanted to be sure it was ready – in case I got injured or something,” she prattled, indifferently.

Professor Ren smirked.

“I see. Well, given how intently you've been working, and how you've much improved in Transfiguration...if you change your mind about something within your essay, I'll allow for you to turn in revisions on Tuesday.”

Rey _just_ resisted rolling her eyes.

“Professor, turning it in early does not inherently mean I rushed the process.” His chuckle was a warm, welcome sound.

Gone was the abrasion and mocking tone that was present when they'd met.

His tutoring of her had taught him a thing or two about his brightest Muggleborn student too. It was impossible now to not admire the bright, young witch, the most waspish Omega he knew.

“I'm well aware of that, Miss Niima, thank you.” Rey nodded, mirroring his humored smile, and turned to go on her way.

“And-” she stopped. “Good luck at tonight's match.” Rey's eyebrows raised, lips bunching to side of her mouth in suspicion.

“Wishing a Gryffindor luck? Weren't you in Slytherin house while you were at Hogwarts, Professor?”

Ren clicked his tongue, feigning annoyance, his erudite mask rising to his aid just a little.

“Ravenclaw, actually.”

“A traitor, nonetheless.”

“ _That will be all_ , Miss Niima.”

Ah, there he was. Her favorite rival in all things magic. She grinned at the grumbling know-it-all's return, knowing her Professor well enough to know that his griping and sense of Alpha superiority was now colored with affection and a mutual respect.

“See you on Monday, Professor.” He gave a grunt of acknowledgment, focus returning to the blackboard as she breezed past his desk and out of the room...

He caught just the faintest whiff in the disturbed air-

And bent over double, covering his nose and heaving.

Even as his vision swam, he had the wherewithal to point his wand at the classroom door, shutting, shuttering, and bolting it.

Oh Great Lupus, it was too _much_. Too sweet, too fragrant, too gentle and sublime.

Even his hand couldn't fully block out the scent now, it had gone straight to his brain and was flooding his system with a hurricane of hormones. Even if he couldn't literally detect her scent anymore, his body was drowning in it, convinced that it could detect the sweet Omega on the air.

He sunk to the floor, desk digging into his back.

No...no, no, no! This couldn't be happening! He shouldn't have been able to smell her! The Mating-Season-Staving potions were meant to _prevent_ these things from happening!

But then it clicked. Her extra lessons with him, her full seventh-year course load, N.E.W.T.s, his essay, and the first game of the season...

She'd been so busy she'd forgotten to take it.

He tried to ignore the sensations rushing through his body, to deny them, distract from them, something, anything.

But eventually, his mortal frame caved before the tide of ancient, primal longing, and his spine arched.

A broken cry of want weaved out from between his fingers.

She was utterly perfect. So brilliant and kind and charming and combative and fierce and it just set his skin AFLAME.

His desire to rut was making his fingers twitch, it came on so strong. His muscles ached, his loins burned, his trousers tented with the force of his arousal.

“Muffliato...” he grunted, pointing his wand at the door.

No one would hear his feral grunts as stumbled to his feet, he took himself in hand and _craved_.

No one would know the unclean thoughts that flitted through his mind, images of worshipping that impudent little Omega, claiming her, mating with her, grasping her small, lovely hand in his great paw, tendons jumping in his arm in time with his thrusts, imaging how he'd inspire her to howl and pant and cry and whine, having her in every imaginable place, on every possible surface, until she would have no one but him.

No one would hear the pining way he kept panting her name, the way he shouted it when he climaxed.

He would get through this rut by releasing over and over again under his own ministrations, and then he would start taking MSS potions himself.

He would never catch her scent again, never think of her this way again, and the sordid memories of his darkest, most fervent rut would be the one piece that remained of his great folly for the vague, distant interest he'd had in his whip-smart student.

The floor and underside of his desk was a mess by the time he finally softened, surfaces coated and sticky with the result of four generous releases.

He was heaving, forehead sweaty against the cool wood of his desk, messy locks rumpled and pasted his forehead. A Scourgify took care of the puddle, and a handful of other non-verbals dealt with his untucked shirt, tangled hair, and undone and wrinkled trousers.

The only evidence of his crimes that remained at all was the sheen on his forehead, and the oppressive, dark cloud of shame. Great Lupus, preserve and forgive him...

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and critiques are greatly appreciated! <3


End file.
